Helena sighed. She watched her sister’s retreating back and felt helpless. The calm and comfort that she usually felt when staying in the gardens were absent now. She sighed again and sat on the bench that her sister had just left.
A breeze fluttered the shrubs and the rose blooms that crawled about the pergola. Strangely enough, it was the memory of Matteo handing her a rose that he had plucked—carefully removing the thorns as well—that made her feel a semblance of calm. She lifted her face and let the breeze calm her further.
A rustling sound below her caught her attention. Helena looked down and saw a piece of folded parchment that the breeze carried near her foot. It had probably fallen with Chastity’s book. She bent down to pick it up. Turning it over, she saw her sister’s name written on it and realized, with a start, that the penmanship was that of a man’s.
Lord Clifton, it must be him, for who else could it be?
Shocked, Helena sat down again. What was happening to her sister? She looked towards the house and shut her eyes.
“Oh, Chastity.”
Pacing her room, Helena watched the movement of the clock on the mantlepiece. A few more minutes and Sally should be done assisting Chastity for the night.
Her worries had deepened ever since she found Chastity’s letter. She had to speak to her sister before things got out of hand. As it was, Helena was already at a loss as to how she could address Chastity’s distance from her; now this new problem compounded everything as well.
Judging that the time was right, Helena opened her bedroom door and stepped out. She knocked gently on Chastity’s door. When no answer came, she knocked again.
“Chastity?”
Chastity opened the door. Her expression became guarded when she saw that it was Helena.
“May I come in?”
Chastity nodded and opened the door wider for her.
Not knowing how to begin, Helena sighed.
“You dropped this in the garden.”
Chastity’s eyes widened as she saw what Helena held out to her. She snatched the letter from her sister’s hand.
Helena pressed her lips together. “The letter is written in a man’s hand, Chastity.”
“Did you read it?” Chastity demanded.
Her angry tone had Helena straightening.
“I did not,” she replied in a clipped voice. “But I can see very clearly from the way your name is written that it is a man who wrote it.”
When Chastity remained silent, Helena rubbed her forehead is frustration.
“You know how improper this is, Chastity! This is enough to cause a scandal. Why would you risk that? I cannot always be there to watch over you, and that frightens me.”
“I am not a child, Helena! I do not need you watching over me!”
“I am doing this for your own good, can you not see that?” Helena said, stung at her sister’s words.
Chastity only looked at her with mutinous eyes. Then she went to the door and opened it.
“I would like to sleep now.”
“Chastity.”
“Please.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Helena walked out of Chastity’s room.
She kept walking until she reached the sitting room. In the dim light of the dying fire, she made her way to the wingback chairs and sat on one. She looked at the chair beside hers, wishing that she could somehow see Matteo sitting there.
